Page 12 of Once Upon a Midnight Dreary
She said it to no one but herself.The air thickened.A soft creak echoed through the rafters.The room shifted as though hearing her and agreeing.The air around where she stood turned suddenly icy, her arms pricking under the sleeves of her gown.The hair on the back of her neck stood on end.
She wasn’t alone.She knew that without knowing how.A shudder went through her.
Shoving those thoughts away, she scurried to the bed where she kicked off her shoes, removed her gloves, tossing them on the bedside table, and quickly shucked her dress.Wearing nothing but her shift, she pulled back the coverlet and slid underneath the blankets, pulling them up to her chin.She left every candle burning in the hopes it would ward off whatever phantom lurked within the confines of her room.
Her wide eyes skipped from the cold fireplace to the windows to the armoire.Whatever she sensed, though, was gone.
Perhaps her tired mind was doing nothing but playing tricks on her.It was a long day, after all.She needed rest.In the morning sun, everything would look different.
She hoped.
She had to.
Because the dark was listening.
Chapter 4
Morningpressedagainstherclosed eyelids.When she blinked open her eyes, she was momentarily disoriented as she tried to recall where she was.
Next to the bed, the candles had burned down to a nub and were snuffed out.Across from her, a cheerful fire flickered in the hearth.She sat up, pushing her fingers through her tangled hair as she tipped her head to the side in wonder.
Perhaps Gabriel had come into the room earlier that morning to light the fire.She never heard him if he did.She smiled, happy to have the warmth permeating the room.
Just as she suspected, everything looked better in the light of day.Brighter.Warmer.Happier.She shoved aside the blankets and swung her legs off the side of the bed.Her shoes were still where she left them.Her dress a crumpled heap on the floor.
A chuckle rose through her at her silly, paranoid behavior.Her imagination ran wild with thoughts of apparitions.It was nothing more than nerves in her new home.
She dressed quickly, preferring to leave her hair down but pulling it back at the nape and tying with a ribbon.After she slipped on her shoes, she headed out of her room and paused in the hallway to take it in.
The wood-paneled walls were lined with old portraits.Likely of the Ravenwood line.People she didn’t know.Above the portraits, a row of dust-smudged windows.There were two spots that were empty—the portraits were removed, leaving a faint faded outline.Filtered morning light pressed against the grime, trying hard to brighten the otherwise dull corridor.A well-worn runner went the length of the hall and down the stairs, which, she thought, was strange.She recalled hearing Gabriel’s click-click of his shoes as he led her to her room.
Behind her, there was a row of closed doors leading to the west wing.Bedrooms, no doubt.She idly wondered just how many bedrooms were in this house.And which one belonged to Gabriel.
As soon as the thought came to her mind, she shoved it away.It would not do to think about where the strange caretaker’s bedroom was in relation to hers.With his cool demeanor toward her, it was clear he was not happy about her sudden arrival.
She headed down the stairs, her fingers lightly trailing the wood balustrade intricately carved with vines.The runner, she noticed, continued from the top of the stairs to the bottom.When she stepped off the last tread, she paused, glanced back up as a strange sensation pounded through her.
Last night, there was no carpet runner.
Or perhaps she didn’t recall since she was tired.
At any rate, the old rug needed to be replaced.She made a mental note of that as she continued on her way to the dining room.
The sound of piano music, faint and lilting, stopped her.She turned, peering into the silent, dark parlor where the baby grand remained untouched.The lid closed.The bench shoved under it.
She started to turn away but then heard it again.Quiet notes.Delicate and deliberate echoing through the hush of the foyer.As though someone played to a great crescendo.The music mournful and oddly familiar.
Curious, and before she made the conscious decision, she turned toward the sound and walked into the parlor.
The music stopped.
The ceiling rose high above.On one end, the baby grand piano in front of a pair of windows draped in heavy velvet to block out the sun.
Her heart thudded as she stepped into the room, the scent of rosewood and lilacs teasing her nose.Once beautiful, the glory of the room had faded.Opposite the piano, a walnut carved settee and matching chairs in a rich garnet velvet.A tarnished silver tray rested atop a lace-covered table in the corner.There were no other decorations.No pictures.No vases.No bric-à-brac.Even the gilded mirrors lining the wall, once vibrant, had lost their sheen.
Another look at the piano to see the keyboard cover was closed.
She could not have heard the music, could she?
